(no subject)
The temperate weather of Santa Cruz has spoiled me; I am no longer accustomed to the oppressing dry heat of summer. I have been hiding inside the house watching television and playing video games, staying as still as possible to avoid heat exhaustion. I'm often bored. I'm not really sure how to entertain myself without spending money. It's too hot for me to walk around outside too much, and I don't really have many friends here. I bought new tires for my car but it still needs new struts, a repair that costs about a grand. My father tells me cars are like children. I have a job but it's only part time. I need a second job if I'm going to be able to support myself, and I spend hours each day perusing the jobs on craigslist. It's disheartening to send out so many resumes and go to open interviews when they avail to nothing.
Los Angeles feels like another country that has sprawled out in the deserts of Southern California. I live nestled in the arid foothills, beautiful and hot and dry as Livermore. My car crawls through the neighborhoods, past signs in Russian, Korean, Spanish, faded paint and blinking neon. You can buy anything here, lingerie and street food and pretty faces and kitsch and Art, if you have the money.
Last week I wandered through a museum bright white on the top of a mountain, squinting at modern architecture and a smoggy vista of never-ending concrete. I ate red velvet pancakes from a truck in Venice, hip, hippie, gentrified beach town, so much like Santa Cruz.
But mostly I peruse the internet and play video games. I work part time at a little cafe that serves food and coffee. It's cute, a big place with lots of seating and cheerily bright walls. The pay is meager but my boss is nice and the atmosphere is laid back. The job fell into my lap. I dropped my resume off at the place because I thought it was cute, and the owner called me up and offered me a job.
This weekend I am going to the San Diego Pride festival. I am closer geographically to my sister than I have ever been and that makes me feel a lot less isolated than I would otherwise.
Los Angeles feels like another country that has sprawled out in the deserts of Southern California. I live nestled in the arid foothills, beautiful and hot and dry as Livermore. My car crawls through the neighborhoods, past signs in Russian, Korean, Spanish, faded paint and blinking neon. You can buy anything here, lingerie and street food and pretty faces and kitsch and Art, if you have the money.
Last week I wandered through a museum bright white on the top of a mountain, squinting at modern architecture and a smoggy vista of never-ending concrete. I ate red velvet pancakes from a truck in Venice, hip, hippie, gentrified beach town, so much like Santa Cruz.
But mostly I peruse the internet and play video games. I work part time at a little cafe that serves food and coffee. It's cute, a big place with lots of seating and cheerily bright walls. The pay is meager but my boss is nice and the atmosphere is laid back. The job fell into my lap. I dropped my resume off at the place because I thought it was cute, and the owner called me up and offered me a job.
This weekend I am going to the San Diego Pride festival. I am closer geographically to my sister than I have ever been and that makes me feel a lot less isolated than I would otherwise.